Loneliness Quivers
by sama-chan
Summary: In the night, nightmares screamed, blank minds slept, and loneliness quivered. Drabble s . Six-centric.
1. Dreamt in a state of consciousness

My first for this series, and I'm quite proud, even if the length leaves much to be desired. If I do continue, it will be much longer, about three thousand words instead of the two hundred right now. More of a drabble—at the moment. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

When the nightmares hit, they plagued him with the thoughts that he'd never thought about before—much. Sometimes in the onslaught of negativity, he'd see a ray of light, coming in the form of the friends he had and the good deeds he'd accomplished. But then they disappeared into a gloomy darkness that he found comforting at times. It made him different than the stupid humans that had slowly risen in his mind to be his friends. It was maddening. It made him kick, scream, yell, and curse, leaving his poor robot, Harry, to clean up the broken furniture.

He hoped that being genetically modified was something he could overcome, but in the darkness of sleep, it was only a dream.

As sweat beaded down his brow, his hands clenched in sheets that he torn from his unnatural strength, he whispered over and over again, the name of the man he'd killed. The _first_ man he'd killed. Whispered like a mantra, over and over, until the sound of his breathing was more like the sound of his sins. He'd never believe in God, but maybe he could believe in sins.

In redemption there is the sin that has to have been committed first.

In the night, nightmares screamed, blank minds slept, and loneliness quivered.

_I don't want to be alone._


	2. Loved in a state of nothingness

Hey, another update! Not very long either, sorry. Had the idea for it because of a review.

I don't own anything.

Kyntak just wanted to be him. Six didn't feel things like him; didn't need the laughter that he did. He just functioned. He just lived. His coworkers liked him in that odd way you really just don't understand. _He_ could be friends with anyone, but _Six_ had friends that understood him. Understood that he didn't know they were his friends. Understood that Six was different from them. Nobody could say the same of him. His friendships were meagre; they were a thin veil. They _liked_ him. They didn't _know_ him.

So his jealousy was hidden, tucked away, stunted, because not only was he afraid of what would happen if he confronted Six, he knew that he couldn't afford to anger the one thing he had that wasn't tainted and fake. Six was that one friend. That one ray of light.

He had it so _good_. And he knew nothing of it! He acted like he had it so rough. Maybe he had had it rough back in the labs and growing up, but his life was _good_ now. He had everything he could have ever wished for—and he still acted like he was living in his worst nightmare.

It hurt. _I hope that very same God we don't believe in damns you to hell._ And at times, it was true. He did want that. But then he'd have to put up with the overwhelming guilt of wanting his family gone. His family truly having nightmares to scream about. And Six was literally himself. He hated_ himself_.

_I'mahorriblepersonI'mahorriblepersonI'mahorribleperson_

_Well you can go and shove your pathetic whining up your—_

_Please, Six, open up a little. I don't want to hate you._

_CAN'T YOU TELL HOW BULLSHIT YOU ARE?_

_Go to hell._

_I hate myself._

_I hate myself._

_I hate you._

_But I hate myself more._

He tiptoed down the hall, ready to head to where Six had told him to go. Late night paperwork. Light distraction strategy. He couldn't dwell on things when his mind was distracted.

On a whim, his feet stopped by Six's door. He heard faint rustling, but nothing otherwise.

His hand came up, opening the door, a small creak letting his presence become known.

He stood in silent, sombre wonder. Six's cheeks were outlines in a soft light coming in from the door. His cheeks glistened with what Kyntak knew to be tears, his body thrashing and tense. He whimpered pitifully and he murmured an unintelligible name, over and over again. His blankets were scattered over the bed, torn up and drenched in sweat. Kyntak came to a halt beside Six's head, his face contorted in pain.

"I didn't mean it, I didn't want this. I'm sorry. _I'm sorry._" His voice a whisper between the whimpers that trailed after it. Kyntak watched it with horrified eyes. How could he be so selfish? He had ignored his brother's pain. He's been ignorant.

And he still resented him. He still wanted to slap him. It hurt him so deeply to know that.

_I don't want to hate myself._


	3. Hated in a state of craziness

I got some inspiration for another chapter. WOO. I'm sorry it's so short.

I do not own anything.

Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

_Blood._

**Blood**.

He sobbed, gasping, shaking, crying, hating. He thrashed, tearing skin from his arms as he hugged himself, biting back the screams. The pain of being himself. Because he wasn't anybody at all. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, he couldn't live—because he hated everybody—_I just wanted to be normal, you know?_ He wanted to see a bright side, a side where—oh, god, dead, dead, dead—he had friends, he had people he could _trust_.

Nobody. _Nobody, brother, there's no one—_

_What's with that look, Kyntak?_

_I'M JUST AFRAID—_

_Please don't leave me, you're all I have—_

_Whoamiwhoamiwhoamiwhoamiwhoa miwhoami—_

_Stop._

_Just stop._

_Everything._

_I WANT IT TO STOP._

He did. He really did. Was it so bad to hate that he was alive? Was it so bad to wish he didn't hate himself enough to injure himself every night, thrashing with nightmares and cutting into his own skin with terror at the thought of breathing, of taking anymore air into his lungs?

He screamed, roaring with terror at himself. He had nobody.

Except his brother. His wonderful, amazing brother. Who did nothing but love and protect and give up everything for him. Six groaned, moaning in pain—but it felt good, _he was alive now, right?_—tears staining the bed. Blood too, bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblo odblood—

No. No. No. No. He couldn't think about it.

What did his brother see in him? He was cold, unemotional, distant. He couldn't make friends. He couldn't love anybody. He couldn't even protect the people he had an obligation to defend. But that's what this was, wasn't it? An obligation. An obligation to fight. An obligation to defend. An obligation to live. Why did he need to fight so much for these things that made him hurt so god damn much?

Fucksakes, it hurt. It really did. He closed his eyes, panting, crying, scratching, clawing, dying, living, hurting, aching, hating, screaming, sobbing. He hated everything.

But the one person he couldn't hate, his brother, Kyntak, he was always there. Maybe he did love his brother. What did it feel like? He wasn't sure. But his chest ached at the thought of him dying, or even being hurt at all. It lightened just a little bit when he came around, although sometimes his cheeriness was so _god damned annoying_ and he really did, then. He really loved his brother. So much.

"S-S-S-Six?"

He froze, the tears freezing. His brother's voice, in the doorway.

NONO—NOT HIM—NONONONONONONONONONONONONONO NONONONONONONONONONONONONONO NONONONONONONONONO—

There ya go. It's so short :'( but whatevs. Review any ideas for future chapters, please. Or it may never get done.


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